


Live (in Remembrance)

by Joanna_Kay



Category: 9-1-1 Lonestar
Genre: Gen, Judd has PTSD, Mentions of Therapy, Missing Scene, character introspection, grieving can look like anger, mentions of a (canon) trauma (the deaths of Judd's old crew in the beginning of the episode), new beginnings doesn't always mean forgetting the past, setting up a memorial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 16:07:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30125373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joanna_Kay/pseuds/Joanna_Kay
Summary: A missing scene that takes place in Season 1. Just a small explanation of how Owen went from telling Judd "thanks but no thanks" to bringing him back onto 126. It also has a bit of how/why Judd turned around how he felt about Owen making all the changes to the building and erasing his old crew.
Kudos: 8
Collections: Fan Fiction Library (Discord) Challenge #1: 20 Prompts





	Live (in Remembrance)

**Author's Note:**

> This is un-beta'd but I have gone through it with spellcheck and grammar check. Any mistakes are mine.
> 
> This is a response to two separate Discord server event challenges. The first, from Fanfiction Library, was to embed the dialogue: “I won’t leave you behind.” The second, from Fanfiction HQ,, was simply: Remember.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

Owen Strand watched the organized chaos that was happening to the station house of 126, his new team. Walls were being taken down, windows were being expanded, the floor was being redone completely and the paint updated. His new team was working alongside some construction workers he had hired as soon as he stepped foot in the station house. It was an expense that Alden Radford had protested at first, but Owen had stuck to his guns, citing research papers and studies and finally ending with the reminder that he had brought Owen to do what Owen did best.

Before he had gotten there, the entire place was functional, definitely, but also depressing. Texas had such gorgeous, bright sun year round and it should be taken advantage of.

Hadn’t anyone in Austin read any of the studies about how light can affect mood up to and including depression?

Tilting his head this way and that, he surveyed the remaining walls, more than half of them freshly painted, his mind on the manila file of photographs that lay on the desk in the area he had designated his office. It wasn’t the traditional captain’s office, private and closed off from the station. No, Owen had picked an area smack dab in the middle of everything. Yes, he was the Captain of 126 now, but he wanted to be visible and accessible. He wanted his new team to know that he was a part of it, not that he stood above it.

It was the only way he knew how to be a captain and he’d been doing it that way for over fifteen years.

“TK,” he called out over the din, “can you find me a ladder? Marjan, go with him and grab a hammer and nails as well as a leveler, please. Paul, if you can come up with me and help bring some stuff down, please.” He didn’t turn to look at any of them, trusting that all of his team heard him. Instead, he went upstairs to grab the manila folder, balancing them on half of the dark frames he had painstakingly picked out.

This was another sticking point with Deputy Fire Chief Alden Radford. The older man hadn’t been sure about Owen’s plan for a memorial of those who had been lost, thinking that it would make the new team Owen had assembled feel even more uncomfortable than being transplanted to the heart of Texas had.

He and Paul ventured back downstairs laden with multiple frames and pictures and a single metal plaque. With little direction, they set up an assembly line.

In almost no time, Owen stepped back and surveyed the commemorative wall that he had set up. He winced as it changed and morphed into the wall that he had set up so many years ago at station house 252 in New York, feeling guilty that he had essentially abandoned his family, both fallen and alive. Looking over at his son, Owen knew that it was the right move for both of them. He also knew that his chosen successor at 252 would do right by them.

He couldn’t believe that he was having to do this a second time, building a new team from the ground up after an unimaginable tragedy.

“Can you make sure everyone comes over here, TK?” Owen watched as his son nodded and began shepherding people from their assigned tasks. As soon as he was surrounded by his new crew, he surveyed them for a brief moment.

“These are the men of station house 126. Seven months ago, each and every one of these men lost their lives during a call. Not only did that tragedy close down this station house, but it tore apart the community as well. These men are why we are here. You’ve never met a single one of these men, but they are your brothers. They are a part of this family.

“Every time we leave this station, I want you to remember that this community is one that your brothers gave their lives to protect and now you are protecting it in their stead. Every time we go out the bay doors on a call, we are protecting their community, their friends and families.”

Owen looked at his crew, each of them standing at parade rest.

“We don’t just do a job. It’s more than that. We’re a symbol of safety and, maybe even more importantly, hope. I know that each and every one of you will do your absolute best. That’s why I picked you to be here.”

Paul was the first to look down, leading by example in a moment of silence, perhaps a quick prayer for lost comrades he had never met. He was quickly followed by the rest of his new team, each one bowing their head and closing their eyes for a brief moment before glancing at their new captain and heading back to what they had been working on to get their new home-away-from-home ready to reopen.

Owen was the last person there, bright blue eyes closing for a brief moment against the pain of loss. He had never met a single one of these men, but they were connected by their vocation and, for a brief moment, their photographs hazed and coalesced into the ones he had seen every single day for the last fifteen years. He nodded resolutely, reaching out to touch the brass plaque in the center of the photographs. Turning, he grabbed a large garbage bag and made his way outside.

He had done his best to honor the men of station 126 who had fallen. Now, he had to honor those of 126 who were still here. The first step to that was beginning to dismantle the memorial the community had begun. Not completely at once; he wasn’t heartless. Just a few pieces at a time, doing it gradually over a few days. There was no way his new crew felt like they were welcome here, cultural differences aside. Not while the community was so visibly mourning so close to home. He began with the oldest, taking the dried, dead flowers and putting them into his bag. Any stuffed animals, he separated, thinking that Michelle Blake would have an idea on what to do with them. They could be donated, he knew, assuming that exposure to the elements hadn’t damaged them in some way, but perhaps they could do something else. Absently, he wondered how many of the lost firemen had children and decided that he would ask Blake if the animals should be given to them.

It was on the day Owen finally finished dismantling the homemade sidewalk memorial that he had a meeting with Judd Ryder, the sole survivor of the explosion. He knew as soon as Ryder walked in that there was going to be a problem, the Texan taking in the missing sidewalk memorial - the last remaining items in a trash can - and the renovations still underway. A part of Owen felt guilty. Yes, he had been asked to come and drag house 126 into the twenty-first century.

He knew how it would look to Judd, however. Not that Owen was doing his best to bring 126 back to life, but that he came in as a complete stranger, a Yankee outsider, and started to change everything simply to make changes.

He did not anticipate making a friend in Ryder, particularly when he had the talk that he was not looking forward to. From the paperwork, Owen knew that Ryder had not been going to the mandatory therapy sessions and there was no way that he was allowing Ryder back on the rig. A man who couldn’t face his demons on a therapist’s couch had no place watching the backs of Owen’s people during a crisis.

The initial meeting went just as poorly as Owen expected, Ryder leaving overturned chairs and insults echoing through the otherwise quiet office.

After speaking to Grace Ryder outside the bar, her husband showed up a second time, this time at the urging of his wife. It went, unsurprisingly, much like the first meeting. Ryder concentrating on flowers in the trash more than anything Owen tried to say.

Owen admitting to the cancer, admitting it out loud… That was truly unexpected to the man. He needed something to try to get through to Ryder, though. Something that made him human, made him fallible. It helped that he could see what Grace was saying the night before, that he and Judd were surprisingly alike. He knew that it would take a metaphorical sledgehammer to get through to himself.

He knew it had in the past, when he was dealing with his own PTSD after the Twin Towers fell. In one fell swoop, he had lost everyone in station 252 and he was adrift in a world that changed overnight. As much as he hated the hammer that came down on him, Owen knew that he had hated it when it fell but it had been good for him in the long run.

If he could pass that on and bring someone else back from the brink, he was going to.

It was when Ryder was leaving that he turned and saw his brothers in arms up on the wall, smiling and proud and whole. It was like a switch flipped. All of the anger that kept Judd Ryder moving drained out of him leaving a man shattered.

Owen moved quickly, directing his crew to other tasks to give Ryder some privacy.

It was after that, after he regretfully told Ryder that the monster was coming out no matter how hard the man tried to keep a tight lid on it, after Chuck Parkland’s wife and daughter showed up to welcome him to the family, that Owen and Ryder managed to sit down and truly talk about what it would take for the man to come back to work.

To start: therapy, lots of it, and no half-assing while he was there. He was to take the recommendations of his therapist and follow them to the letter, even if he disagreed with them. Trying something and it not working was completely different than refusing to even try. On top of that, Owen wanted weekly meetings with the man. First, so Owen could gauge how Ryder was doing. Second, because he had a feeling that he and Ryder could manage to bond, given enough time.

Both men were the sole survivors of tragedies that took their entire crews. Both men had PTSD and a good dose of survivor’s guilt. Owen was the closest that Ryder would find here to an equal.

And, he admitted, it worked both ways. If Owen was the closest to an equal for Ryder, then Ryder was the closest thing to an equal for Owen.

The Texan wasn’t happy with the terms and conditions, but he obviously knew an olive branch when one was extended to him. If doing all that was the only way he was getting back on a rig, then he was going to do it.

Ryder was once again leaving, the area around the rigs suspiciously empty, when he stopped and turned to look at the commemorative wall Owen and his crew had put up. Owen watched as Ryder lifted a hand, almost touching the nearest photograph before dropping it to his side.

“I won’t leave you behind,” Ryder whispered, Owen just barely able to hear it even in the silence.

“I promised them that, too,” Owen responded quietly, respectfully nodding as Ryder turned to him with piercing eyes before walking away.

“I’m not leaving them behind,” Owen continued to himself. “I’m not leaving you behind either, Judd,” he promised the man who was walking away.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! 
> 
> Any feedback is appreciated!


End file.
